


My Ideology

by Neo_Naughtager



Category: Jreg, The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Ancom Is a Cat, Caught, Commie is a kinky bastard, Degenerates The Lot Of Them, Drug Addiction, Drugged Sex, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fix it? More Like Fuck It Up, Hand Jobs, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse, Kidnapping, M/M, Master/Pet, Masturbation, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Not A Happy Ending, Obsession, Oral Sex, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pet Play, Power Play, Pronoun kink, Quee/Quem Pronouns, Self-Harm, Slurs, Winged Hoppean, Yandere, Yandere Authleft, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neo_Naughtager/pseuds/Neo_Naughtager
Summary: "Any good man is devoted to a cause.A goal.A God."Authleft is known for his insistence on communal work, his heavy use of 'our' indicating his love for community ownership. But there is a certain 'kiddie' who he isn't keen on distributing, and god help those who wish to seize quem from him.For quee is the only private property the state has sworn to protect, whether quee wants it or not.A Yandere! Commie fic that will most definetely spiral out of control.
Relationships: Anarchist Unity, Hoppean/Minarchist if ya squint, Libunity, Slight Rightist Unity, Slight Statist Unity, Tanarkiddie, leftist unity - Relationship
Comments: 33
Kudos: 167





	1. Anatomy of a State

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for revenge... or perhaps a reveal?  
> In which bread is conquested and degenerates are degenerated.

Ancap has had enough of this.

This is like what, the third time he's bought bagels just to have Commie go on and 'redistribute' them? He swears, if that damn statist keeps it up, he's gonna start charging him to breathe. He drops the empty box- why didn't they just throw it away if there was nothing left?- and storms toward the left wing of the house. All the capitalist wanted was a nice midnight snack while he checked a few of his stocks and these guys had to go and ruin it! God, after all he's done for these extremists they just ignore his private property? He didn't even plan on charging them _that much_ to use one of his dozen mansions as a headquarters while they planned the downfall of centrists- dirty motherfuckers... Now where was his room again? Down the hall, on the... north side? Wow, the perks of having a million rooms. He didn't like this house too much, so he let them stay... as a result he knew where practically nothing was. Oh ho ho he was gonna make Commie pay... $12.49 with interest and a damages fee to be specific. The anarcho-capitalist was busy preparing his mind for the statist bullshit that Authleft was known to spew in the meantime. He expected a long winded rant about blah blah blah proletariat blah blah blah bourgeoisie scum, Ancap didn't really listen to him very much.

What he wasn't expecting was to see Nazi up and about this late at night. 

"Oh, Ancap. Funny seeing you here." The totalitarian said, brandishing his revolver. When was he not carrying the damn thing? "And by funny I mean tiresome. Ya know where the fucking Communist is? The faggot took my ps4 controller charger and the fucking thing died when I was mid-game!" Cocking his gun, Nazi huffs. "I said so many slurs, my throat still hurts..."

The anarchist shrugs. "If I knew, I would have charged him a premium already. He took my bagels! Again!"

"Oh those were yours? Damn, you gotta tell me where you buy 'em from. Fucking delicious..."

"You... ate them??"

Nazi chuckles, adjusting his hat. "Look man, I'm not one to turn away any conquested bread. Adds to the flavor when you steal it from someone else! And besides, what did we say about private property?" Authright smirks, fluffing the capitalist's curls. "If ya can't protect it, it ain't meant to be yours."

A faint blush overcomes Ancap's face, and he pushes the other man's hand away. "Don't tread on me! I'm not one of my child wives..." With a pout, he sighs. "Let's get this straight, Naz. I have a bone to pick with Commie, and you have a bone to pick with Commie-"

"Actually I don't even care about the charger, I just wanted an excuse to shoot somebody, and the fact that it's that Slavic fuck just-"

"Shut up!" Ancap whines. "Anyway, we both could benefit if we both banded together to get our revenge-"

"-Or barely justified assault-"

"- and beat the shit out of him!" The capitalist chuckles. "Or... something." He turns his head when he hears a slight noise, it sounded like... cursing. In Russian. Taking a few tentative steps in the direction of the noise, he motions Nazi to follow. "And I think I know just where he is. Follow me."

The right wing pair close in on the familiar voice, a few odd words becoming recognizable as they came upon a slightly ajar door towards the end of the hall. Nazi grabs Ancap by the hand, hushing him slightly. "Hear that?" He whispers, motioning to the door. "Sounds like he's arguing with the boy... what's his name, the degenerate one? Anarcho... whatever." 

"Ancom." The capitalist says. "I thought he was out spray painting banks, engaging in glitter orgies or something at this hour... And doesn't he use those quee/whatever-the-fuck pronouns?"

Nazi huffs, his blue eyes meeting Ancap's yellow ones. "Do you really care about that shit? Be real."

"Not if he's not paying me. Anyway let's just go in there and- _Fuck_!"

Ancap jumps back from the slightly open door, covering his face and stuttering quietly.

"Dude, the fuck is-" Authright pushes the anarchist aside, peeking in through the door. His jaw nearly drops. "Jesus fuck..."

* * *

The soft panting noises hung in the air like an oppressive regime, rambling curses in the Commie's native tongue puncturing it every now and again. Authleft relaxes in his chair, the copy of _Das Kapital_ he had been reading earlier lying on the floor forgotten as he wraps his hand tighter around his cock, stroking with fervent intent. God, _God_ it feels good, just indulging himself like this. Commie's heart pounds nearly out of his chest- did he really have that such little control over his lusts that he could barely read a page of theory without his mind being clouded? Fuck, it was almost as if his dick, his whole body was crying out with need. A need he wouldn't ever fulfill. A series of near animalistic growls rise from his throat, but he chokes them down best he could. Shutting his eyes tightly, he strokes faster, just wanting this to be over with. Commie couldn't take the mere thought of the anarkiddie obstructing his critical thinking. So if he could just hurry it up and get this out of his system, maybe he'd be able to focus. This is the last time, the very last time he'd ever do such a thing. Ever. 

" _Da... Da, Ya tebya hochu..."_ He mutters, running his free hand through his hair, knocking his ushanka off his head. He swears the little brat would get the bullet for driving him to this extreme time and time again. Commie curses quem, quis big bright green eyes, quis heavenly smile. Had Ancom not been so... sweet, so kind, so smart so devilishly sexy, maybe it wouldn't have been so damn easy to be entranced with him. He couldn't, _wouldn't_ , **_can't_** have any semblance of attraction to the anarkiddie- they were business partners and nothing more. He was just planning on using the anarchist- it did make him look good, being on good terms with the queers- until quee outlived quis usefulness. So why the fuck did he want quem so bad??

" _Da... da, da, da!"_ He cries, throwing his head back with a shuddering moan. _"Please...Ne ostanavlyvaysya! Ne ostanavlyvaysya!"_ His voice cracks, and he arches his back, thrusting hard into his own grip. Commie was close, ungodly close, and his thoughts were wild with imagery of the green anarchist. He could almost _feel_ quis soft skin against him, quis hot breath against his neck and the shivering falsetto of quis voice moaning a shy 'Tankie' in his ear. He could smell the young extremist's scent, the sickly and intoxicating aroma of weed and dumpsterdived dollar store cologne wrapping around him, drawing Commie closer and closer to the edge. The pitch of his voice rises a half step, and he shakes, his eyes snapping open and rolling back as he shouts and moans.

 _"A-Ancom! Da, Anc-com, Ancom, detka... Detka~ ah ah AHHHH~!"_ He shouts, a flurry of curses leaving his mouth as he came, splattering his hand and chest with his cum. It takes... a rather long minute for Commie to catch his breath, and he wanted to linger in the aftermath of it for as long as he could. Time passes, and his breathing slows to a steady pace. After he gets a grip on himself, he tucks his dick away and scoops his ushanka off the floor, dusting it off. He huffs at the coughing noise that he hears, not even turning to acknowledge the other man who entered.

"Evening, Nazi. I hope you feel awful as usual. What you need?"

The rightist cocks his gun. "You done now, you degenerate?" 

Oh. Of course he heard that. Probably saw a bit too. There was in fact still semen on him. Authleft wipes his hand on his trousers, slipping his hand in his pocket as he smirked just the tiniest bit. "As done as your vife in gula- ack!"

Nazi bashes Commie over the head with his revolver, shoving the barrel of the gun under the leftist's chin. " _Don't talk about her._ Look..." He takes a deep breath, calming himself. He couldn't kill him, not yet at least with the centrists still about. "I could give less of a fuck what disgusting degenerate fantasies you have about the libleft dude, you're both going to be be kicked out of the ethnostate either way and in all honest you two fucks deserve each other." He pushes the gun more firmly into the other extremist's neck, cursing softly. "I just want my fucking charger. I know you have it! Just... tell me where you put it, I don't want your faggot slav hands on it any more than they already have-"

"Nazi! Naz, wait!" Ancap rushes in, having been waiting outside for... obvious reasons. He grabs the authoritarian right's shoulder, huffing softly. "Wait just a moment! Don't you know what this all means?"

"That the left are all fags we've been aware of that." The Authright replies. "Now why the fuck are you touching me? You're like half Jew and that makes me half disgusted to be touched by you."

Ancap pouts. "No, well, actually you might have a point there but no!" He leans in a bit close to his fellow rightist. "We can use this to blackmail the peasant-oh I mean, Commie."

Both authoritarians freeze, and the sole leftist in the room could feel himself break into a cold sweat. Nazi pauses like he was going to speak but then pulls back, as if contemplating his next move. Commie just wanted to smack the smirk that grew on the other statist's face in that very moment. Authright pulls back, still pointing his gun in the leftist's face.

"Ancap..." he says after a long moment. "...That might just be... one of your best ideas yet."

Both rightists chuckle, Ancap letting out a soft 'nyesssss' at the agreement between them. "I already have a spare plan of action! I blackmailed three of my eight child wives,you know~" The right anarchist chuckles. Nazi and Ancap go back in fourth in their discussion, most of the words fall to the wayside of the communist's focus, and he simply stares ahead into the barrel of the gun. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Commie felt as if he could vomit. Was it hot in here? It really felt as if it was a solid twenty degrees hotter in the room. 

"But the truth of the matter simply is will he believe us? Ancom I mean." Nazi states, flexing his gun clenched hand with a yawn. "You- maybe, but he's bound to just whack me with his stupid bat..."

"Kuee." The leftist mutters, just loud enough to catch the Nazi's attention.

Authright tilts his head, lowering the revolver. "Come again?"

"Anarkiddie's pronouns... are kuee/kuem..." Commie balls his fists, then unballs them. It would be so, so damn easy to just snap his neck like twig. "You respect those, **_or you get the gulag!"_** A slight growl leaves the leftist as he snapped, his frustration boiling over as he throws a punch at the Nazi. But it stops mid flight, connecting with wood.

A bat to be precise.

 _"The hell is going on here???"_ A familiar falsetto voice rings out. Ancom huffs, lowering quis bat. "And it's Quee/Quem, just so you know."


	2. The Communist's Manifesto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promises are made, but can they be kept?

All the extremists go quiet for what seems like a long chunk of time. Commie stares at Ancom while Ancap and Nazi look back and forth between the lot of them. The green radicalist lowers quis bat, sighing dramatically. If Authleft could say something he would, but the words freeze in his throat. What was this he was feeling? It was like he was a dog with his tail between his legs. It was... an awful sensation, on par with disgracing the good lord Stalin.

He had upset the Anarkiddie.

"I come back from a long day of praxis," Ancom continues, "And this is the thanks I get??" Quee turns quis attention to quis comrade. "You don't understand how embarrassing it is to have to come and defend a FUCKING Nazi-"

"White Identitarian..." Nazi mutters.

"DON'T MAKE ME LET HIM BEAT YOU UP, FUCKING NAZI!" The anarchist screeches, brandishing quis bat. After then taking a deep breath, quee steadies quemself, lowering quis weapon. The look of calm that overcame quis face was... near serene, the sort of thing that just compelled you to listen, Commie thought. Quee was always good at this kind of thing. It was... cute, the energy he radiated that could calm even beasts like the extremists. Even beasts like him. "Look," Quee says. "I'm not gonna try and pretend I understand what's going on because I don't. If you all wanna bicker and squabble among yourselves that's on you. But we need to not kill each other if we're gonna get anywhere with killing all the centrists! We all want the centrists dead right?"

The group mumbles a general approval.

"And every extreme is what?" Ancom starts, gesturing around.

"On the same team..." They all reply.

Anarkiddie nods. "So we need to hold back on our hatred for one another for just the slightest bit, until we settle this once and for all. Our first mission to convert the moderates is in a few days anyway... and after that then there's not too much more we need to do. We can handle this, I know we can..."

Beneath the green anarchist's face mask, a smile grew. Commie could tell, as quis eyes had that anime-like glimmer in them. Those big, beautiful green eyes... God, was he staring? Oh- what was quee saying now? How long had he been staring at quem? It takes Commie a good moment to realize that the rightists had left, for how long he'd been lost in thought he didn't know. it was just him and Anarkiddie. Great, just fantastic. Now he had to deal with his childish prodding into his business. Why couldn't Marx have mercy on him?

"Tankie? Yoooo Tankie? Earth to Tank-Tank, c'mon..." Ancom purrs a chuckle out, waving a gloved hand in front of the authoritarian's face, which is grabbed instinctually by the other leftist. Even through the thick leather, he could still feel quis body heat, and he just wanted to wrap himself in it tightly- fuck he was squeezing the shit out of it wasn't he?

Commie clears his throat, releasing the young ideology's hand. Steadying his stance, he looks down at his fellow leftist and attempts to swallow any ounce of guilt on his face. It hurts to make eye contact, but he powers through. "Apologies Komrade... You are uninjured, _Da_?" Commie's voice is as cold and stoic as ever, professional one might call it. But the ice in his voice soon melts when the green radical lowers quis face mask, studying him closely. He felt as if the anarchist could read his thoughts with how intense his gaze was, and it was making him a tad bit self conscious. Fuck, there was still cum on his shirt, wasn't there?

"Yeah of course I'm fine. Whatever the fuck I bought from Ancap got me numb as shit." Ancom chuckles, shaking quis head back and forth. The cat ears quee stitched onto the hood of quis jacket flop around slightly. "Tank you aren't... sick are you?" Quee asks, looking up at the other ideology.

" _Nyet,_ Vat vould make you think- _Cyka blyat!"_ Commie nearly doubles over in pain when the young extremist whacks him in the stomach. It didn't hurt very much, but it caught him off guard. Very off guard, which was unusual. Maybe he was finally loosing it. No, that couldn't be it. Commie was not going to let his senses be warped by an ideology near a century younger than him. He straightens back out as if nothing was wrong, chuckling and ruffling Ancom's hair. He nearly nearly knocks off the anarchist's hood with the intensity of it. "Good hit, Anarkiddie... Be glad I let you get avay vith such things. Now might I ask, fuck vas that for?" Commie huffs, the drop of hurt in his voice clearly of emotional origin. 

"Sure you did. Sure. But you really should know by now I don't want you meddling in my pronoun business..." The anarchist plops down in the statist's armchair, putting quis legs up and smoothing out quis skirt. "If it doesn't come from a genuine place, then it might as well not be there at all. And he's just misgendering me to piss me off, you know this... but you still feed into his nonsense! It's almost as if you're trying to make the left look reactionary!"

_Says the kid who dumps milkshakes on those who use words quee doesn't agree with..._

The communist sighs aggressively, he did know this. It was one of Nazi's best tactics to provoke and then run. He was playing into his hands as the enemy of free speech by going off on him like that. And had he actually hit him? Who knows what he would have done... Commie leans his back up against the open window- the one Ancom must have crawled through- letting the cool air wash over him. He needed a minute to cool off. "I... I know, Anarkiddie... But it vould be so easy to simply vring his neck like rag. How do you expect change if you don't enforce it?"

"I don't wanna hear your authoritarian bullshit right now!" The green extremist's voice raises to a near grating pitch as quee snaps. Quee swings quis legs down, standing as if to confront the authoritarian. But Ancom quickly looses balance, flopping back into the chair. Quee seems to melt into the fabric, whatever Ancap gave quem really was strong. "What makes you think I need a state to do all my dirty work? I'm almost 400 years old, I do things on my own. What, just because you trace back to Ancient Greece time you think your way of doing things is better? Okay, Boomer. O-fucking-kay, _Boomer_."

"Komrade you know I'm _just_ trying to help! You -"

"Look Tankie, can you just hurry the fuck up with this??"

Ancom closes quis eyes, gritting quis teeth and tensing up as if preparing for a strike that never comes. Did quee... really expect him to lash out? I mean, sure he's roughed quem up a bit in the past, but there was always a sort of playfulness about it. It was far beneath Commie to simply strike his fellow comrade out of anger. He wasn't even angry, was he? He felt... something. Something tight and uncomfortable in his chest, but it was far from the rage he was so accustomed to. This feeling, it was compelling him to... soothe the anarchist left. To keep things on good terms between them of course. He needed quem, no, the revolution needed quem. And he couldn't have quem mad at him when that time came. Commie places his hand on the libertarian left's shoulder, sighing softly.

"Look, Anarkiddie... You are right, as alvays. I should not interfere in your personal business... meddling, as you say." The red radicalist sighs, squeezing the younger ideology's shoulder as he stoops down to look quem in the eye. "But you need to put aktion behind vat you do." He see Ancom open his mouth, but shushes him. "Productive aktion. Maybe ve... ve could go... disseminate some propaganda? Organize a strike or... I don't know, something." Commie just wanted to ease the tension in the room. It was heavy on his mind and body, and stress always messed with his theory recall. It was for the betterment of the left he was doing this... 'Leftist Unity', as he heard it called.

The anarchist opens one eye, then both widen at the suggestion. "Are... are you for real? You never wanna do praxis with me, are you sure you aren't sick??" Quee jumps up out of quis seat, throwing quis arms around the statist. "Yes! Yeah of course, I'll do whatever!"

The warmth of Ancom against his body was a most welcome surprise, and the tightness in his chest melted, replaced with joy... pride, nearly. He wanted to squeeze the young extremist until he was out of breath, but simply settles for patting his back a bit. "Alright, alright, that's enough, Anarkiddie. Off." Commie frees himself from Ancom's grip, patting him on the head.

"You.. you really mean it?" The young extremist chuckles, swaying a bit with barely contained excitement. Quee looked as if quee was going to burst with happiness. It made Commie smile, just a little. God, quee was full of hope was quee not? Reminded him of his early revisonist days. There was... a future in this kid, he saw it back then, and it's crystal clear in that moment. He needed to keep that fire burning in quem for as long as he could.

_No matter what it takes._

"Svear to Lenin I mean it." Authleft chuckles.

"Proooooomise~?" Ancom whines cheerfully, tugging at the red radicalist's sleeves.

The communist was starting to rethink his decision. "Promise, promise. As long as you keep your unsavory activities to... minimum. No molotovs- at least this time."

"Awwwww~" The anarchist pouts, but nonetheless agree. "But fine... If I see a cop car I'm bashing the windows in, though."

The two leftists spent the majority of the night discussing plans of direct action, until whatever drugs Ancom was on wear off and render the youth incapacitated. Commie couldn't just leave quem slumped on top of his desk, so very, very carefully he slings the anarchist over his shoulder. Quis room wasn't too far from his own, so it wasn't like he was going out of his way or anything. Plus... he knew he'd get no sleep with Ancom in the room. Not when his mind was being so easily distracted by the ideology. But it was safe to say something like this would most definitely never happen again. Ever. So he revels in the warmth of the youth against him, kicking the door open and laying the anarchist onto quis bed. For one reason or another Ancom rarely slept there, as quee made a habit of passing out downstairs on the couch- when quee managed to make it home at all. It... bugged Commie how difficult the anarkiddie was to get a hold of sometimes- running off to do whatever quee felt like in that moment, nearly getting arrested at any given period for any number of crimes. Quee was reckless, emotional, wild. Ancom needed some form of structure if quee was going to make any positive lasting impact on this world. 

Quee needed _him._

It was so obvious, really. The anarchist called it 'mutual aid' whenever Commie would intervene and bail quem out during one of quis mostly illegal schemes, but that's clearly not in the slightest true. Ancom didn't need an accomplice to quis little antics quee called 'praxis'. Quee needed someone to take control, reign quem in a bit, right on the path of the authoritarian he knew quee could be. 

And Commie was just the ideology to do such a thing.

He made up his mind right then and there. He would most definitely be the one to help quee in the ways quee needed. Authleft chuckles softly, why hadn't he seen it earlier? Commie would keep quem safe, keep that precious smile on quis face and keep quem under the rule quee needed to blossom correctly. He would harness that hope and power in the anarchist, and put it to good use.

His eyes lift up, noting the now shattered door barely hanging off of it's hinges. Oh fuck, he really did a number on that door, didn't he? Commie really needed to start watching his strength. Well, he didn't really live here, and it can't be helped nonetheless. He'd fix it eventually. Eventually meaning whenever Ancap yelled at him for it, until then he'd most likely forget about it. But until then, he'd stay by the anarchist's side. Commie gently ruffled the sleeping radical's hair, sighing softly, and sat with quem until morning.

* * *

When morning came, Commie had gone to the kitchen for breakfast. He was, for whatever reason in a bit of a sentimental mood, and had fixed his mind on making some _kissel._ He hadn't had any fresh batches since before he had left his motherland. That was what, one hundred, maybe two hundred years ago? Too long, in his opinion. Ah, they did have the ingredients. He simply peels off the sticky note that reads 'Ancap's strawberries- Commie if you touch these I swear to fucking god' and tosses it in the trash. Well, he might as well make enough for everyone since he seemed to be the only one up. And with that, the communist sets off to cooking, humming a variation of The State Anthem of the Soviet Union. A last minute thought crosses his mind and Commie even throws a pot of coffee on. As he stirred the gelatinous mixture on the stove he hears footsteps, and doesn't turn to acknowledge the other ideology who joined him. 

"Ah, morning _Kulak_." He says to the capitalist, reaching over on the counter for a bowl he had prepared earlier. He spoons a hearty serving into it, sprinkling a bit extra powder in for good measure and sets it in front of Ancap, who had already begun eyeing the coffee maker. "I've taken liberty among myself to make some breakfast. There is big work to be done. _Yesh'te pozhaluysta."_

The rightist tilts his head. "How much?"

"Just eat it _Kulak_ before I change my mind." Commie growls, walking over to the coffee machine. Pouring him and the rightist a cup, he tosses a shot of vodka in his own mug, then sits next to him to watch him eat.

It brought a slight smirk to the authoritarian's face to watch the right anarchist wolf down the food he had prepared. All according to keikaku, as Ancom would say. The rightist leans back in his chair, sighing contently. "Not bad... Not bad at all, Commie. But I hope you understand... that this is quite the shitty bribe, if you think it'll stop... god, is it hot in here?" Ancap coughs a bit, unbuttoning his shirt a bit. Then the coughing increases, a slight trickle of blood flowing from his nose.

"Vat's vrong, Komrade?" Commie chuckles. "Something on your mind?"

Both men look at the half empty bowl on the table. Ancap starts wheezing, gripping at his throat as he watches the communist start to smile wider.

"F-fuck did y-yyou put in that??"

"Just a little of this, little that, perhaps dash of nihilism..." The capitalist's eyes widen, but no words leave his mouth. "Chin up, Ancap. It's not like it vill kill you. Like it or not, you're an integral part of the team. And it vould be far easier to put bullet in your brain should I vant you dead." Commie sits back in his chair, watching the capitalist struggle to breathe. "No, you'll be in pain for a bit, might bleed a slight amount but you von't die. Yet at least..."

"I-I mean... w-what use is money if we all end up dea-N-no!!" The rightist jumps out from his chair, knocking it over as he scrambles away. "This..." Ancap chokes, coughing and grasping at his collar. "This v-violates the NAP!"

Commie simply smirks. "'Only purpose for vhich power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his vill, is to prevent harm to others.' Your man John Stuart Mill said this, no?" He slams his hand down on the table, leaning in close to the rightist. "Listen up and listen up good, _Kulak_. You try anything, anything that even looks like you'll interfere with me and Anarkiddie and I von't kill you... _but you'll vish I had."_


	3. Mine, Kampf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Praxis in practice is more difficult than one could imagine.
> 
> In which debts are compounded with interest.

_The communist didn't even need to lift his eyes from the book he was reading- he already knew who it was that entered the room. He sighs softly, leaning back in his chair. Commie finds himself nuzzling into the touch of the young anarchist who walks up behind him, wrapping quis arms around him tightly. Ancom was so... so warm and soft against his skin, he was scared he might bruise quem if he wasn't careful._

_"Anarkiddie... what is it now?" The red leftist chuckles, reaching up to caress the side of quis face. He could try and play it off, but he knew precisely what quee wanted. It was rather evident in the glint in quis eyes that the anarchist had mischief on the brain. A rather... intimate mischief, at that._

_"You should know by now, asshole..." Ancom mutters. Quee trails quis fingers down Commie's chest, tenderly stroking his muscles through the fabric of his shirt. A silent, shuddering gasp leaves the authoritarian as he felt a warm pair of lips meet his neck, nibbling aggressively and trailing up his cheek. "You've been teasing me alllll day now..."_

_It seems as if in a flash, the green extremist was in his lap, lip-locked with him and grinding against his aching heat. Like quee was starting a fire, Ancom grinds quis hips with reckless abandon. Instinctively Commie grabs hold of the anarchist's hips, stuttering a moan. Quee really knew how to get him going, and going fast._

_"Tankie..." Quee whimpers, soft and tender into the authoritarian's ear. "I want you~" The young leftist kisses down Commie's neck, and soon enough he felt hands eagerly grasping at his pants. Ancom looks up for a second, meeting the communist's eyes. He nodded, knowing exactly where this was headed. The authoritarian simply leans back, watching intently as deft fingers undo his belt, a soft, appreciative sigh leaving him as the green leftist eagerly strokes his cock._

_"T-Tankie, please..." Quee mutters, quis breath warm and wet against his ear. "I need you... so bad..."_

_Commie nods, and smiles a bit at the soft giggle that left Ancom. He knew what quee was asking for, and was more than happy to let him take it. Hands on the authoritarian's shoulders, a barely human whine leaves the anarchist as quee slowly lowers quemself down onto his dick. God, quee was so cute, nearly mewing as quee settled into place. Fuck, he_ could _watch quee fuck quemself on his dick for ages, the mere sight of Ancom so willing and subservient... It was driving him wild._

_"Tankieeeee~" The young anarchist purrs, rocking quis hips back and forth as a chorus of begging and pleading noises rose from quis throat. Authleft could barely keep quiet himself, his blood rushing through his body as a dazed moan softly left his-_

"COMMIE!"

The older leftist snaps his eyes open. Oh. He was daydreaming. Just daydreaming. He turns his attention to Ancom, who stood beside him, hands on quis hips. "The meeting's been over for like... five minutes. That anti centrist guy Jared or something's already gone. You sorta just... zoned out."

The anarchist plops quemself down onto the couch, leaning against Commie. "Ya sure ya ain't sick or somethin'?"Quee asks softly, a gloved hand grabbing Authleft's upper arm. Ancom was always touchy like this, but as of recent it's become more and more unnerving to the authoritarian. Not because he disliked it, but for solely the opposite. It felt... too good to be in quis contact.

But like nothing was wrong, Commie straightens himself out, adjusting his hat. "No, nothing like that." He huffs. "Got lost in thought is all... Thinking on sociopolitical implications of..." Come on, he could think of something... "A theory I've been considering."

"Oh!" Ancom says, perking up. "I'd love to hear it! It's been awhile since we've discussed-"

"No." Commie cuts him off quickly, moving away. "It's nothing special. Don't worry." With a deep breath he turns back to Ancom. "Have you... thought about my suggestion yesterday? Whatever bit of productive aktion you feel best?"

The green leftist nods as quee kicks quis legs a little back and forth. "Yeah, there's actually a strike happening downtown, might break into an all out riot! Got a few Molotovs made just in case~" As quee spoke, Ancap walked past, jolting when he made eye contact with Ancom. He quickly looks away, moving as fast as he could into the kitchen. The mere sight of this almost brings Commie to smile. Almost. What didn't make him smile was the slightly dejected pout on Ancom's face.

"Hey," the left anarchist mutters. "You know why Lemon Boy's been all jittery n' shit? He ain't on crack again? I told him he needed to share that shit if he was gonna be using. God, he's so confusing sometimes. Like... near impossible to read type shit..." 

The faraway contemplative look on Ancom's face worried the communist. He huffs softly, wrapping his arm around the anarchist's shoulder. Quee would understand eventually, that this was for the greater good. Quee didn't need to be wasting quis precious time with such _Kulaks,_ anyway. Maybe this way he'd spend more time reading theory and less time on whatever drugs he manages to snatch from the right anarchist.

"Look, Da? No need to worry yourself over it. He'll be fine."

"You... really think so?" Ancom looks up at Commie with those bright, beautiful eyes and he can't help but smile. 

"Da, Comrade. Da." The authoritarian fluffs the anarchist's hair beneath quis hood. "Now come. Let us... print some zines to distribute to the peoples."

"Alright!!!"

* * *

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Ancap was on his third glass of Poor People Tears **™** brand wine, and Nazi, who had left his room for the first time all day to get more energy drinks had taken notice.

"God, the fuck is wrong with you?" He says softly. "You know, if you're upset, then you can always just kill yourself! I can assure you no one would miss you if you... Jesus Christ what in the ethnostate's wrong with your face??"

Ancap wipes the slight trickle of blood from his nose, taking another sip of his drink to numb the pain. "Why don't you ask the commie?" He spits.

Nazi's eyes go wide. "He beat the shit out of you and you didn't even film it for me? What sort of compatriot are you?" He chuckles with a shake of his head.

"He didn't _hit_ me," The yellow rightist mutters. "I wish he had... he poisoned my damn food." Ancap lets out a small series of coughs. "I should charge him one hell of a damages fee..."

The blue authoritarian rolls his his eyes, sitting near the anarchist. "My fellow Aryan, you need to learn that you can't just use your money in order to get by in a world where (((they))) are in power. (((They))) control the money anyway-" He holds a hand up when Ancap looked as if he were going to speak. "Ah! Don't interrupt me!"

Nazi clears his throat, taking a swig of the energy drink in his hand before continuing. "As I was saying, you need to use force. Negative force, a strong, powerful, preferably state-backed force if you don't want the Jews to poison you again."

"I-It was actually Commie who-"

"Shut up! For one second, God!" Nazi huffs. "You've never been this apprehensive before, especially not with a damn communist. So what the fuck gives? You have plenty of means at your disposal."

"Well I know that, Naz." The anarchist sputters out. "It's just so difficult to get hold of a McNuke **™** with all this talk of taxation and the child laborers going on strike-"

The authoritarion narrows his gaze intently. "That's bullshit and you know it. You're just afraid to take action yourself. Didn't you say he violated your NAP?"

"Why... yes..." Ancap says lowly.

"Then you have every right to defend yourself. Commies aren't people anyway, right?"

The yellow rightist sighs, his face tinting a slight shade of embarrassed purple. "...You're right. You're always- always right..." He pours himself another glass with a sigh. "But I... I don't know if it would... be enough, just throwing him from a helicopter or something..." Ancap stares at his reflection in the ocean blue liquid, gripping the glass tightly. "Do you know... what it feels like to have your pride ripped out from under you? Do you, Naz?"

The other ideology shrugs. "Some 'tard spammed me on Tekken once so I swatted his house. Kinda similar."

"That's... in no way similar..." Ancap huffs. "No, look. I want to get back at him... and I know how to do it... I'm just trying to think of a way in which I don't hurt the kid in turn..."

Tilting his head, the Nazi thinks for a moment. But a wicked smile soon overtakes his look of contemplation. "Oh. Oh ho ho you dirty bastard! That's fucking brilliant! I knew you weren't a Jew!"

"What does that have to do with- never mind... All I need is some time, to try and sway Ancom to my side. But it's tough, dealing with someone who can't be bought..." A distressed whine leaves his throat, and the glass cracks under his tight grip. "I just... feel gross. If he doesn't want money, then what does he want? What use am I without- without money? I've... I've always said my worth as a man is the worth that I bring, but... what is that worth if not my net worth??"

The glass drops to the floor, and Ancap tilts down his fedora to cover his face. He wipes away the purple tears before they could pass his sunglasses, stifling a whine. He felt... god forbid he say the word- worthless. Fuck, not even a fucking Ancom could find worth in him? Truly he was the lowest of the low.

Oh god, the identitarian hopes he wasn't crying. What a weak display of emotions, especially from an Aryan. But nonetheless Nazi offers his hand, standing up. "Now's not the time for an identity crisis. We've got work to do, and I need all the members of this..." He struggled to say the words. "... _Team_... to be running at 100%. So then..." He mulls over something in his head for a bit. "... wanna watch SJW cringe compilations until you feel better? I got a few extra degenerate ones lined up!"

Chuckling softly, Ancap takes his hand, nodding. "I... think I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.

* * *

The heavy thump of combat boots were quickly followed by the _click click click_ of converse as both authoritarian and anarchist left made a run for their lives. Down the dimly lit alleyways, over fences and through gardens they ran, Ancom dragging quis bloodied bat behind quem. The anarchist busts a lock off of a garage door, ushering the other leftist in before shutting the door, leaning up against it. For a moment, only the sound of their labored breath echoed quietly throughout the dark and dusty enclosure.

"Okay... okay I think we lost the cops..." Ancom mutters, pulling off quis facemask to more easily breathe. Quee sighs, turning to Commie, who also seemed to relax a bit.

After catching his breath and steadying his stance, the authoritarian growls slightly at the anarchist. "What were you thinking, beating that man's head in??? He didn't do anything!"

The green leftist stomps quis foot, an outburst that had quee not been covered in blood would have been cute. Or maybe that made it cuter. "He was clearly a Nazi!" Quee exclaims quietly.

"You can't go around saying everyone who doesn't agree with you is Nazi!" Letting out an annoyed grunt, Commie fixes his ushanka. He... he didn't feel mad at the anarchist- just frustrated. Frustrated in himself for not being able to control this whirlwind of an ideology. He thought of quem at first like a gentle sunbeam, just waiting to be harvested for solar power- but quee was more akin to a raging wildfire. And he was here, about to get burned. "This is exactly why I can't bring you anywhere, all you do is... is..." Commie's voice trails off when he notices the other leftist not paying attention. Or rather, paying a different kind of attention. The pair lock eyes for a long moment before the authoritarian speaks up again.

"What... what are you looking at?"

"Nothin'~..." Ancom whispers, a hint of a giggle in quis voice. "You're just... kinda cute when you get all intense like that..." The green leftist wanders about the garage. "Maybe you should show a bit more passion in things, you'd get more people on your side that way. Loosen up while you're at it, Mr. Military Man~" Quee lifts up a ball, bouncing it a few times as if in contemplation. Commie wishes he knew what was roaming around the anarchist's head when that sickly sweet smile curls on quis lips. "Speaking of... I know the perfect way to loosen things up a bit- if you're up to it, that is..."

Before Commie could respond, the young anarchist was already on his knees.

"Take off your shirt." Ancom mutters softly. Quee looks up at the authoritarian with those hypnotic green eyes, boring deep into Commie's soul. "Or not, doesn't really make much of a difference."


	4. The Conquest in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whether love or lust, the pain is unbearable.
> 
> In which flesh meets and ideals clash.

Oh.

Oh GOD.

Commie stares, for a long, long time, his mind racing with every possible thought that it could conjure up- but all of them stop when the anarchist rises from quis knees, takes his face in hand and kisses him. Deeply. For a moment the communist almost wanted to melt into Ancom's embrace, let his body do what it had been longing to do for far too long, let his vices take him over. Almost, that was. Despite his wishes, Authleft knew that it would be most detrimental to the entirety of their campaign against the centrists. He couldn't think straight when his flesh lusted so deeply for the anarchist. Quee was dangerous in that way. So, despite the primal part of him that wanted nothing more than to tear the clothes from Ancom's slender frame, Commie pulls away, brushing off his jacket. But before he could get a single word out, the young leftist had already pulled him back close.

"It's ok, it's ok, I know..." Quee purrs, a soft but knowing tone that shakes the authoritarian to his core. "I mean, for all your stoicism you really made it kind of... obvious." 

The communist felt his heart sink and then flutter. Did this... did this mean that quee felt the same about him? But did he really wanna sink this far into degeneracy? He had already sworn to himself that he need not engage so heavily in such feelings. But by god, did the anarchist's lips against his neck raise heaven and hell in his nerves. Words fail him, and he simply wraps his arms around the other extremist as he lets quem drive him further and further away from clear thought.

"Look..." Quee mumbles softly between kisses. "It's just that... with this whole 'centricide' stuff, I'm not sure if this is entirely the... the best way to go about things. I'm nervous about it, you're nervous about it, and honestly I-" The anarchist huffs mid-tangent, pouting. "I... I'm not sure if tomorrow, with the moderates..." Quee looks up into Commie's eyes with a look that nearly brought him to tears. "I'm not sure if we're gonna make it out alive. You know the only reason I'm here is because of you, right? That and the drugs- but mostly you. I know, 'no gods, no masters' but I really do look up to you, ya know? I trust your judgement but... If one of us doesn't make it..." Quee touches the communist's hip in a way that makes him want to melt into quis arms. He really wished quee didn't speak so direly of things. Quee hesitates for a moment, and in that moment the authoritarian wished he knew what was on quis mind. "...I wanna make sure we don't forget each other." Libleft mutters with a sigh.

Ancom gently traces quis fingers across Commies's face, caressing the stubble on his face and the red leftist catches his breath, for just a moment. "I can touch you... right? You want this?" Quee asks, quis voice soft and even, not a trace of the forced falsetto in it.

Every atom in his body wanted nothing more than to cry yes, but in the moment he was paralyzed, and it stopped any sound from leaving him. If Commie let Ancom... if he gave in, it would be admitting to something he could never take back. It would give weight, meaning to what he had previously dismissed as misguided intention. If he allowed this to continue, it would make his feelings... real. There would be no denying it. And you know what? He was ready. Commie had spent so much time, nearly his entire goddamn life vying for the 'greater good' of the people, prizing sacrifice and duty and class unity. When was the last time he did something for himself? Kim Il Sung be damned if he didn't earn the right to just this ONCE be selfish for a change. He was owed at least that much, was he not? The communist tilted Ancom's head to look at him, a soft smile curling at the edge of his lips. The green extremist... really did seem content in all of this. Like quee wanted this just as much as he did. That raw, excited energy that he was so drawn to in the first place, that radiated off the young leftist like the lure of flame to an unsuspecting moth. A lively rabbit to a starving fox, more likely. And Commie was starving for contact.

"C'mon, Tankie~... what's it gonna be~?" 

The anarchist tugs off quis gloves, a sparkle of that marvelous mischief glittering in quis eyes as quee stares almost hungrily at the authoritarian. Commie smiles at Libleft, taking quis hands in his own and kissing them softly. He knew what he wanted, and that was quem.

 _"...Da."_ He chokes out. " _Da,_ I... I want you..."

Ancom giggles, a low, playful giggle. That's all the green extremist needed to hear. Quis energy was just so contagious, Commie could feel it vibrating through the both of them as quee pressed quemself against him. Quee dipped quis hand beneath the waistband of the authoritarian's trousers, eliciting a choked gasp as the anarchist slipped out his cock and stroked it with a speed the communist was ill prepared to cope with. His body jumped in response to the stimulation, a low groan leaving his lips. That felt... better than expected. Much much better than expected.

"Fuuuuck, you're this hard already~?" The young leftist teased. "Maybe I should have came to your aid sooner, huh?" The anarchist strokes Commie's dick rather inquisitively, as if quee was studying it's texture in quis hand. "Well then, are you ready to stop standing in the way of leftist unity~?"

And before the authoritarian could get a word in otherwise, Ancom was once again on quis knees. The noise that left Commie when he felt the young extremist lick playfully at his cock while quee jerks him off was near animalistic. This... this was far better than anything his mind or hand could ever bring him. This was real, tangible- if he reached out his hand he could clearly feel the soft coils atop the anarchist's head, if he closed his eyes he could focus on Ancom's lips, skimming the surface of his dick before... Wait, what was quee-? Commie's eyes snap open and his whole body goes rigid as the green leftist parts quis lips to slip a good portion of his cock in quis mouth. The groan that the authoritarian's lips were more akin to a roar than anything else. God, god, Marx, Lenin and Mao, he couldn't handle this. Commie could feel every bit of his length pulse in the anarchist's mouth, painfully aware of every lick and suck and graze of quis teeth. His mind went nearly blank as the aching need in his cock begged and pleaded for more stimulation. Even with the anarchist on quis knees, working him over with his mouth, Commie couldn't help but feel as if he was the one submitting in this situation. The way Libleft looked up at him, the glittering mishief in quis eyes, oh Marx, the authoritarian couldn't even meet quis gaze. All there was to do was to lean against the wall of this dusty garage and take it. He was in no way going to last with Ancom sucking his dick like this, and the thought scared him. If he was too quick, would the young leftist be cross with him? It would be... embarrassing, at the least, but the sharp pleasure that spread through his body didn't seem to care. He soon finds himself pulling back from the anarchist's touch. 

This reaction, understandably, raises caution in Ancom's behavior, and quee slides away, a hint of concern in quis eyes. "What?" Quee asks. "You not a fan of it or something?"

" _N-Nyet,_ I..." God, he couldn't even get the words to come out of his mouth right. But seeing the anarchist look at him so dejectedly, he thought he might as well had kicked a puppy. Or maybe a kitten would be more adequate a comparison. 

"If it's too much for ya, let me know." The green leftist brushes off quis shorts as quee stands, pulling the communist into a tight embrace. Ancom rests quis head on Commie's shoulder, simply leaving quis hands to caress what quee could. "We can do something else- I mean," The anarchist slowly slides quis hand back down to stroke the authoritarian's cock, drawing a stuttered whine from him as he bucks into quis grasp. That was... nice, but he felt like he could handle this, no matter the embarrassing noises that left his throat."- you seemed to really enjoy my hand just then~" Ancom purrs in response to his sounds.

"I..." All Commie can really do is nod, rolling his head back as he closes his eyes to revel in the sensations. 

"Got it!" Libleft chirps, giggling softly as quis hands continued to teasingly play and stroke with the communist's dick. We're all about consent here. I'll just note that you're not a big BJ fan in the sex note later on and then~"

There was a clear look of bewilderment on the authoritarian's face as he snapped his eyes open, staring down at the green leftist. "I... what?"

Ancom rolls quis eyes, scoffing as if the answer to the question was that self-explanatory. Which to a degree it was. "I keep a journal of what the people I fuck prefer in case I get uh... repeat offenders~." Quee states plainly as if it were a regular thing to do. Quis hand does not slow down in the slightest, and in fact picks up speed as quee explains quemself. "Helps me remember..."

"Oh..." Upon hearing that, the communist's heart sinks a little. How many people had the other leftist been with? It pained him to think of it, to think of anyone else being so intimate with quem. It felt... sacred, the thing they had together. He didn't want to share this- share Ancom with anyone, in the slightest. Hadn't he given enough in his life? Commie deserved to have SOMETHING to himself... And he wasn't going to give up on the anarchist. 

It was hard to focus on such thoughts at the moment, as it seemed with every passing moment the green leftist gripped him just a little bit harder, stroked his aching dick just a little bit faster. Commie's eyes roll back as a low, needy groan slips from his mouth. The authoritarian reflexively grips onto the young anarchist, just needing something to hold onto as he was pressed up against the wall. A flurry of curses in a disjointed mix of English and Russian pour out from him as Ancom milked him for everything he was worth. This was it, huh? The fabled 'Leftist Unity' the anarcho-communist would whine about all the time. It was, if nothing else, intoxicating, the combined energy between the two of them. Intoxicating still was the soft, encouraging words the anarchist would mutter in his ear, purring and drawing Commie closer and closer to the edge. He grips Ancom by the waist, whispering pleas to hurry it up or cursing outright in response to the stimulation. Authleft felt his heart racing, his breath shuddering as his dick twitched, nearly writhing in the young extremist's grip. His mind was elsewhere, full focused on the moment and the anarchist and his aching cock. Nothing, nothing in the slightest mattered as much as the burning need his body pulsed with.

"Almost there, buddy?" Ancom chuckles, pressing a soft kiss on the communist's neck that sends a shiver down his spine. My wrist is getting kinda~"

A door swings open, and suddenly both leftists note the rightist staring in bewilderment at the scene before him. "What the... fuck?" Minarchist mumbles.

It takes a moment to recoup, but when he does Commie instinctively reaches into his jacket for his sickle. But he finds the green extremist had grabbed his wrist, shooting him a knowing look. Quee could handle this.

"Oh! This is your garage? No wonder this place seemed so familiar..." Ancom chuckles softly, and to the authoritarian's horror- does not stop stroking him. Not that he wanted quem to, it's just... Minarchist was clearly standing in full view of all that was going on. "Yo Tank!" the anarchist calls out, snapping him from what little thought he could hold. "That's just Mini, he let me sleep in his garage when he bought acid off of me at a punk show. Crazy times, right Mini?"

"Don't call me that..." The two toned libertarian blushes slightly, a mix of yellow and blue coating his face. "Why are you- what are you even doing here?? You know to some, trespassing is a violation of the NAP, right?"

"Oh don't pull that shit with me, we were just running from the cops, same ol' same ol'. We were just planning on stepping out pretty soon anyway, right Tank?" The anarchist turns to quis comrade, who had tuned out of their little conversation. A small trickle of blood ran down his chin where he had bit his lip to keep quiet. Ancom's hand, as well as a sizable spot of the concrete floor were coated in the communist's thick, viscous seed. The anarchist drops quis hand, wiping it off on quis shorts. "Oh... Tankie, you good?" 

The authoritarian musters a nod, glad the the over-stimulation was finally done with. He makes himself look halfway decent, ignoring the night-watchman's muttering accusations of degeneracy. What was degenerate about taking what was his? " _Da, da._ Whatever the _kiska_ says." Wait... what the fuck did he just call quem? A cold sweat runs down Commie's back, but he wouldn't make a fuss over it. It was just... concerning how quickly and easily the pet name fell from his lips. How right it felt. That was not something he should be worrying about at the moment. 

From behind Minarchist the door opens once more, Hoppean leaning against the frame and wiping his heavily bagged eyes. Commie very, very vaguely remembers him from one of Ancap's tea meetings. "Babe, have you seen my brush?" The taller rightist yawns. "This molt's being a pain and these feathers really don't wanna..." He pauses, locking eyes with Commie as his feathers puffed up slightly. "Why are there... _leftists... **in our garage???"**_ As if to emphasize his point, the thunder cracks, the pounding of the rain louder than the dull roar it had once been.

The other rightist shakes his head, subtly positioning himself between the leftist and his right companion. "Look Hopps," He says, glancing back at Ancom for a moment. "They... they said they were leaving, alright? Just.. chill. For one moment."

Hoppean lowers his eyes, flapping his wing aggressively. "But you **_know_** that-"

"Go, alright! I'll handle it." Miarchist sighs, adjusting his goggles and shooing the winged rightist away.

Muttering something about him being complacent in degeneracy, Hoppean lowers his wings dejectedly and trots off back into the house. "Sorry about him." the night-watchman mutters. "Roomates, you know how it is..."

"Yeah, heh." Ancom chuckles. "But you know, if ya gave him head every now and again, maybe he wouldn't be so cranky all the time~" 

"... Get out of my house before I start aggressing..."

* * *

The walk back was a long one, and for the most part, a quiet one. The rain had finally stopped, and the sky was clearing, a scattered litter of stars peppering the night sky. Ancom had attempted to make conversation by rambling on about horoscopes and constellations, but after noting how Commie wasn't going to bite, settled into humming softly to quemself. It wasn't as if the authoritarian didn't want to speak with the anarchist, it was simply that he couldn't think of a single word to say. Well that wasn't entirely true. His mind raced with dozens of things he wanted to do and say to the young leftist, but he couldn't bring himself to say any of them. How did you even confess such things, especially when he was certain Ancom wouldn't return it? After all, who's to say they saw each other in the same light? He'd just make a fool of himself, more than he already had. Commie sighs, simply listening to the soft tune that left the anarchist's mouth. Though covered once again with quis mask, the authoritarian could almost feel quis smile. Ancom was content, and if quee was happy with how things were, he quite surely could learn to get over it himself. Commie relaxes, and simply enjoys the nonsense melody the anarchist hums, until it stops.

"Hey Tank," The green radicalist calls out. "Can I... ask you somethin'?"

The authoritarian's heart flutters, and now painfully aware of the feeling in his chest, he tries to calm himself. It's... it's highly improbable that the young leftist would engage in any of the behaviors that ravaged his mind space. Clear thoughts, comrade, clear thoughts. He coughs, clearing his throat. " _Da,_ what is it, Anarkiddie?"

Slowing quis pace, and then stopping altogether Ancom looks up at the communist. The moonlit glow... really did suit quem, did it not? "I was gonna ask... about that thing you called me back then. I'd try and pronounce it, but ya know, cultural sensitivity, I don't wanna butcher it." Quee adjusts quis hood. "What does it mean? You said it in a sorta... way, so I just wanna know."

Oh. See, that's all quee wanted. Though... he couldn't just out and say he called quem kitten though... could he? So a simple lie would do the trick. "There's... no English word for it, don't think. None that I know."

Seemingly taking the bait, Ancom perks up a bit. "Oh well. It do be like that sometimes. Let's hurry up and get back, though. I'm getting hungry as shit and my wrist is tired..."

And so their walk continued, soon enough the pair making it to the front door of the mansion. But with his hand on the knob, Commie sighs. _To hell with it_ , he thinks. _I need to know._ With a deep breath he turns to Ancom. "Anarkiddie, do you-"

Before he could finish the sentence, the door was opened for him. "Ah Commie! Ancom! You two are rather late, aren't you?" Ancap adjusts his sunglasses with a smirk that makes Commie want to wring his neck. Why the rightist felt he could smile at _his_ comrade like that was beyond the authoritarian. Did he so quickly forget what he had promised to do? "Quick, come on. It's getting cold out there, isn't it?" the right anarchist calls out.

As the pair made their way inside, it catches the communist's attention that the capitalist was in a rather different state of dress than he was accustomed to seeing him in. It was next to impossible to see Ancap in anything remotely casual, even at late night hours like this. But there the rightist was, clad in a t-shirt and jeans as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Something was... off, Commie could tell. But the moment he opened his mouth, the capitalist was already accosting the left anarchist, getting far beyond what the authoritarian would consider too close. 

"Ancom~, you wouldn't be opposed to helping out a fellow anarchist with a few minor chores, would you not?" He says, his voice as smooth as snake oil. "C'mon, it's not all that much!"

The green anarchist idly swings quis bat, thinking for a moment. "I dunno... It's almost like 2 am, ya know? Why didn't you just go and get Nazi to do it since he was hear all day?"

Ancap lowers his glasses just the tiniest bit, looking up at Ancom with a huff. "There's an eightball of coke in it for-"

"Deal!" the left anarchist shouts, grabbing the rightist by the hand. "And it better not be that cheap shit you cut with aspirin- that was a shitty high..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait, and such a short chapter! But I can for sure tell you that there is some... k e w l shit on the horizon!


End file.
